officers. The colored pieces he placed in an irregular mass.

"Now," he began, "this represents the disposition of our force pretty
well. I was here, at the top of the ravine"--he laid a cigar on the
table to indicate the spot--"Bertram on the ridge yonder. This bunch
of red pawns stands for the Ghazee rush."

"It agrees with what I've heard," said Challoner, surveying the roughly
marked scene of battle with critical eyes. "You were weak in numbers,
but your position was strong. It could have been held!"

Blake began to move the pieces.

"The Ghazees rolled straight over our first line; my mine, which might
have checked them, wouldn't go off--a broken circuit in the firing
wires, I suppose. We were hustled out of the trenches; it was too dark
for effective rifle fire."

"The trench the second detachment held should have been difficult to
rush!"

"But," Blake insisted, "you must remember that the beggars were
Ghazees; they're hard to stop. Then, our men were worn out and had
been sniped every night for the last week or two. However, the
bugler's the key to my explanation; I'll put this dab of cigar ash here
to represent him. This bishop's Bertram, and you can judge by the
distance whether the fellow could have heard the order to blow, 'Cease
fire,' through the row that was going on."

He resumed his quick moving of the chessmen, accompanying it by a
running commentary.

"Here's another weak point in the tale, which must be obvious to any
one who has handled troops; these fellows couldn't have gained a
footing in this hollow because it was raked by our fire. There was no
cover and the range was short. Then, you see the folly of believing
that the section with which the bugler was could have moved along the
ridge; they couldn't have crossed between the Ghazees and the trench.
They'd have been exposed to our own fire in the rear."

He added more to much the same effect, and then swept the chessmen up
into a heap and looked at his companion.

"I think you ought to be convinced," he said.

"It all turns upon the bugler's movements," Challoner contended.

"And he was killed. I've tried to show you that he couldn't have been
where Clarke's account had him."

Challoner was silent for a while, and Blake watched him anxiously until
he looked up.

"I think you have succeeded, Dick, though I feel that with a trifling
alteration here and there you could have cleared yourself. Now we'll
let the painful